


You'll Always Want For It

by faintwalker



Category: Itsuwaribito Utsuho
Genre: Gen, Literal Touch Starvation, People are in Danger, They/Them Pronouns for Pochi, Touch-Starved, With the Potential to be Fatal, but as a condition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faintwalker/pseuds/faintwalker
Summary: (It's a curse.)Utsuho has a condition, but that's okay.  Everything is being suitably managed.  He isn't a danger to others and especially isn't one to himself.
Relationships: Azako Utsuho & Pochi | Ponpokorii Chitchoriina the Third, Azako Utsuho & Yakuma Koshirou, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	You'll Always Want For It

_(It’s a curse.)_

Utsuho is lucky to survive the mountains. He’s even luckier that Pochi survives with him-- lucky that tanuki aren’t bound by the same rules as humans. When he sleeps up a tree to avoid the ground-chill and wakes with a warm furball curled up and breathing on his abdomen, it’s with a gratitude he feels every time.

The first morning his heart had stopped a long moment, afraid he was imagining the rising and falling of that small chest. The two of them had had a talk, and, although each morning is still a bit of a shock, Utsuho thinks he’s on the path to adjusting. Pochi needs him, and maybe Utsuho needs _that,_ just a little. 

They make it to their first town together, and Utsuho leads Pochi through the streets, bumping into people and shoving his way through the crowds to point out this or that piece of the festival they’ve stumbled upon. Pochi is enthralled by it all, and Utsuho smiles despite the dirty looks thrown his way. It’s wonderful to not feel the least bit like a burden.

Pochi hears a voice on a nearby mountain, which leads Utsuho to a second person he can help. Lending his assistance goes well, and Utsuho sets off for the next town practically humming from contentment, Pochi at his side. This journey of his is off to a good start.

~ ~ ~

_(He’s read up on the matter, and most sources agree: it’s a curse.)_

Yakuma is interesting, to say the least. Although he's only around Utsuho’s age, he’s already been a practicing doctor for several years and is, in fact, the first surgeon Utsuho’s ever met, not that he’s really met all that many people. Still, surgery is a relatively new field and quite uncommon in Japan, so it’s definitely cool. 

On top of being a licensed professional, Yakuma is also a stickler when it comes to his own moral code and someone quite skilled at hand-to-hand combat. Due to his disdain for liars and all things deceptive, Utsuho doesn’t exactly expect him to stick around.

And Yakuma doesn’t.

Right up until he does.

Utsuho wants to say that Yakuma’s just using him on this trip to the so-called island of eternal life, both because Utsuho’s skillset is much better suited to such an endeavor and because Yakuma hasn’t made mention of any plans for cooperation further down the line. He wants to believe it, too, but Yakuma makes that… difficult.

Something changed between them after their close scrape with that man in the mountains. Yakuma still tells Utsuho off for random little things, but he’s… less hostile about it. Utsuho isn’t really sure if Yakuma has noticed. He almost didn’t notice it himself.

(When he’d pulled Yakuma from the pit, after they’d both stumbled away from the edge, Utsuho had moved to let go and Yakuma… hadn’t. Wincing from the effects of the sudden movement on his punctures, Yakuma had caught his breath and just _looked_ at Utsuho, gratitude and wonder edged with disbelief on his face. For the longest time Yakuma had stood there, looking, while the blood from his palm dripped down Utsuho’s hand. Utsuho had almost forgotten that he still needed to pull away first.)

(Utsuho tries to always pull away first.)

Yakuma works on making a boat, something else Utsuho can apparently add to his list of abilities, and Utsuho splits his time between exploring the ocean’s edge and making a nuisance of himself in the nearest village. The residents get so fed up with him running through the streets that someone throws a half-rotted apple at his head one day. After cutting it down to the good parts, he shares it with Pochi. It’s overly sweet and mushy, but Pochi enjoys it enough that he doesn’t even bother to hunt down the person who threw it to throw the rotten parts back.

Dinner each night is shared with Yakuma. Utsuho’s found that the smell of cooking fish will eventually lure Yakuma over if he sets his fire up near enough to where Yakuma’s been working. Yakuma doesn’t always talk much, tired out as he usually is after his laborious days, but he always appreciates the meal, which is nice. Utsuho has always preferred fishing to share with others.

The ocean is just as amazing as he’s always imagined, but the smell isn’t. Rather, the shore stinks from the decaying seaweed and other odd things that wash up, though the near-constant wind helps with the stench somewhat. Fishing from the rocks, Utsuho looks out at the specks of boats in the distance. Far away like that, surrounded by all that blue, he can’t help but think they look lonely.

The problem is, Yakuma is actually kind of fun to be around. Annoying, sometimes, with his preachy attitude and the way he thinks he’s proving something with this boat-making of his, but fun nonetheless. As a medical professional, he’s also probably the best person for Utsuho to go to about his condition, and therein lies the issue. Utsuho had Gramps to protect him growing up, and his parents before that, but nobody could ever effectively shield him from the surrounding prejudice in the world.

_(It’s a curse.)_

It’s always been there, waiting outside his house, sneaking in with the servants, and, later, slipping from the tongues of his fellow orphans. Nobody’s even known for sure since he started his travels, but from some of the looks he’s been getting in towns and villages, he knows people are guessing. He knows that they’re guessing _correctly._

_(It’s a curse.)_

There’s a limit to how subtle he can be about it, after all. It’s not like he wants to die.

Yakuma hasn’t figured it out yet. Of this, Utsuho is certain. He’d do something if he knew, though Utsuho isn’t sure what. Leave, most likely. Yakuma is definitely reckless, but Utsuho knows he doesn’t want to die either.

Pochi is safe, and Utsuho figures the roads between settlements can’t be any more risky than that first trip through the mountains. He’s been holding on fine. Between bumping into strangers and beating up thugs, he’s got it mostly taken care of. Yakuma held his hand once without suspecting a thing. He complains if Utsuho hits him, but he doesn’t shrink away. Yakuma isn’t touchy-feely, so it’s easy for Utsuho to hold back from overdoing it. Things are fine. He’s managing.

The trees here aren’t big enough for Utsuho to sleep in, so he and Pochi are stuck on the ground. Yakuma claims a spot near the embers of the dinner fire, and Utsuho is careful to always keep at least twelve shaku between them when he chooses a place to rest. Pochi curls up with him each night, a wonderful thing that does nothing to prevent him from waking to a distance that’s closer to nine shaku. Utsuho is glad Yakuma turns in first, because he might catch on otherwise.

Yakuma sees him in the mornings plenty, though. Utsuho usually wakes to the sound of Yakuma rising for the day, and he doesn’t always wake up fast enough to sit up and look convincingly alert before Yakuma spots him. 

Eventually a morning comes when Yakuma says, “You don’t have to sleep so far away, you know.”

“Any closer and your snoring keeps Pochi up,” Utsuho retorts, which makes Yakuma huff and grumble something under his breath. 

Getting up properly, Utsuho dusts himself off and watches as Yakuma sets himself to starting up a fire over the old one’s ashes. The heat of it will help him work the stiffness from his muscles, which is apparently important to do before all the woodworking he’s clearly planning on getting up to again today. It makes sense to Utsuho, who figures stiff muscles are a bad idea no matter what physical activity someone plans to attempt. He’s only waiting on the fire so he can reheat some of the fish he’s strung from a tree for breakfast, though. It _could_ be eaten cold, but he knows how to be patient. If Yakuma hasn't realized that, it’s his own problem. 

Utsuho shifts through stretches while he waits for the fire. Still half-asleep, Pochi trails after the ends of his obi. Once the flame has caught, Yakuma unbinds his hair and combs it through with his fingers, as is usual in their routine.

Heck. They have a _routine._

It won’t last, Utsuho knows. The boat will be done any day now, maybe even this very afternoon. The routine will change on the island, surely, and Yakuma might not stick with him after that. Utsuho shouldn’t get comfortable.

He throws a pebble and watches Yakuma stiffen as it hits him in the back. Scooping Pochi up, he takes off running to the sound of Yakuma’s snarling.

~ ~ ~

_(He’s heard the gossip, and that’s what people say: it’s a curse.)_

“You can hit me back, you know,” says Utsuho, watching the sun set from Nadeshiko Island.

Yakuma sighs. “Or you could stop hitting me,” he says. “What did I even do this time?”

Utsuho scoffs in lieu of a proper answer.

This island is killing him.

He wishes he was being dramatic, thinking like that, but he’s not. With the largest opposing group of itsuwaribito wiped out, the island’s visible population consists of him, Pochi, Yakuma, and Neya and her villagers. 

Pochi can’t help him. The kids and the elderly are right out, because no way is Utsuho feeding off of them; it would be majorly uncool. He isn’t touching Neya at all, since the villagers are trying to convince her to leave the island and he doesn’t want to interfere in their resolve by accidentally making it look like he has any intentions towards her. The men of her settlement have started running from him on sight, not that he can justify going after them for much longer. There’s only so long he can use the grudge excuse for before he starts looking like a bully.

Which leaves Yakuma. 

Yakuma is busy most of the day with stitching together fabric for their balloon “sail,” so there’s a limit to when Utsuho can really mess with him. Yakuma spent a good half-hour looking for the needle after he dropped it during one of Utsuho’s sneak attacks, and Utsuho has been careful to not repeat the mistake. He also can’t suspiciously up his amount of contact in any way, though, so he’s trying to settle for kicking Yakuma around a little more while he’s on breaks.

Utsuho really wants to lean on him. He wants to put his arms around him and just… hold on. It’s his stupid instincts, demanding he do something to fix the deepening pit in his chest. He has to constantly check that he isn’t hugging himself with how cold he feels. Pochi is warm, but they don’t chase away the chill in his bones any more than his own grip does.

Some days he thinks of ditching Yakuma to explore the island. If he finds any more itsuwaribito in hiding, he’ll be able to fight them. He’ll be able to kick them around and sit on them until they give up. It’ll help.

He doesn’t.

At night, he and Pochi sleep on a roof in the hidden village. Yakuma sleeps in the room down below. They don’t have a morning fire anymore, but it wouldn’t make him feel less cold even if they did.

The cold is all in his head, he knows, just like the pit is. He grew up spoiled, is all. None of it is really that bad. Inconvenient, maybe, but bearable.

Yakuma checks him for fever a week in, pressing the back of his hand to Utsuho’s forehead. Utsuho stays still. He doesn’t sway forward when Yakuma pulls away.

He doesn’t, because he’s fine. It would help if Yakuma would hit him more, though. He rarely does, but each touch counts.

“I’m serious,” says Utsuho, watching as the last sliver of sun disappears on another sunset. “You can make it reciprocal. It’s not like I’ll have grounds to complain.”

Packing up his needle, Yakuma says, “Just stop if you feel so guilty about it. I’m not interested in fighting all the time. Ever heard of an eye for an eye?”

“Fine,” says Utsuho. “Your loss if you don’t take me up on it.” Standing up, he holds out a hand in offer to Yakuma.

Yakuma takes it without thinking twice, and Utsuho pulls him to his feet. Yakuma’s hand is so warm. Everywhere touched by it tingles after Utsuho pulls away. He can still feel the phantom echoes of it hours later.

~ ~ ~

_(It’s a curse.)_

There isn’t much room in the balloon-ship’s basket, especially with all four of them and supplies aboard. Sprawling to take up space as if he has every right to, Utsuho leans against one corner and stretches his legs out diagonally across. Crammed into the other two corners, Neya and Yakuma don’t complain. They often brush against him in the limited space. 

Eventually, an hour or so into the flight, Yakuma gets bored of taking in the view and settles in against him. Utsuho forgets how to breathe for a moment, suddenly shoulder-to-shoulder with warm pressure along his side. His arm is pinned between them from the elbow up. It’s the most prolonged contact he’s had since Gramps was alive.

Not even twenty minutes later, Yakuma makes a comment about the altitude going to his head. Utsuho shrinks away, tugging a barrier of supply bundles between them. His upper arm is awash in pins and needles but without the typical numbness.

Another hour and he’s got his knees hugged to his chest to keep from bumping into Neya. Dislodged from his lap, Pochi curls up against his hip and naps on and off. Utsuho keeps them entertained with stories and a short length of string when they’re awake, and sometimes Yakuma pitches in with one of his foreign tales as well. It’s a slow afternoon.

He uncurls a bit around sunset, spreading out until shortly after Yakuma and Neya say their goodnights. Utsuho doesn’t trust himself to sleep in these conditions, so he doesn’t. The stars are nice. Pochi breathes on his chest. A hand’s span or more separates Utsuho from everyone else. Shortly past moonset, Usuho feels certain he’s made the right call. The night is long.

In the morning Utsuho knees Yakuma awake out of boredom even though he knows no one really slept well. The volume of Yakuma’s response wakes Neya, and the noise from the two of them helps Utsuho avoid nodding off. He spends the morning dividing his attention between joining in on their conversations and entertaining Pochi, and, all in all, it’s about as pleasant as it can be when he’s exhausted and barely has space to move.

The ship crashes midday.

~ ~ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Look forward to chapter two, where people talk out their problems and everything gets better!
> 
> (Nah, just lying.)
> 
> But there will be a chapter two.
> 
> Have a question? Write a comment, find me on my tumblr of the same username, or wait for the story to play out. Things should get clearer.


End file.
